Sunset on Amsterdam.
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European, AmericanEuropeans exude pride. Their bones whisper that they are worthy, sexy beings. They are able to be gritty, unshaved, yet elegant because they’ve never questioned that they are. They drink espresso out of ceramic espresso cups while smoking in the alley and chatting with friends just as somebody would who has been assured he or she is magically, mysteriously refined as a birthrite.In America, we’ve no idea what we are.We know- and the world and statistics continuously confirm to us- that we aren’t refined. We know we can't authentically call ourselves cultured, or really claim a culture at all, without appropriating, like a rock collection. We know that our sense of fashion is really just coming to us as a hand me down from the French and Italian dictators.We aren’t sure what is ours, and so we do not take pride in ourselves, because we’re still not sure what exactly it is that we’re taking pride in.